


Helado De Fresa (RAFAEL BARBA)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 1690</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>this was my fave and I want to write more where rafael interacts with diego more but alas, i cannot ALSO female!reader because child</p><p>and pardon my spanish again, i only made it to spanish two in high school and i’m learning it on my own but still pardon my spanish</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helado De Fresa (RAFAEL BARBA)

“Diego,” You called from your spot on the bench, legs crossed, “Be more careful, por favor!” He nodded and pushed some hair from his eyes before turning to continue playing with the much younger boy in the sandpit. You sighed and stretched out, standing to get ready to take your son home. You had been at the park for nearly three hours, as per Diego’s request, and clouds were rolling into the city.

“Can’t we stay a little bit longer?” He whined when he craned his head to look up at you. You smiled and shook your head, holding out your arms for him to stand up and climb up. “I want ice cream.”

“I think we can do that. Say bye to your friend!”

Diego grinned at the little boy who was fair with dark eyes and dark hair, like your son, “Bye, Noah!” The boys waved at each other and you bounced your son, waving to Noah’s mother, or who you presumed was his mother, who was kneeling next to him. “I want helado de fresa!”

You nodded once more, letting Diego down once you were out of the park, his small hand grasping yours. “So, was Noah nice to you?” And he nodded furiously, jabbering on about how fun it was to play with Noah, even though he was smaller than he was. “Alright, you said strawberry?” You finally had to cut Diego off and his answer came in the form of deep dimples, he was grinning up at you.

The smile made your stomach soar. Your son was the light of your life, even if his father wasn’t in the picture, and his grin and his brown eyes shining made working doubles on the weekdays worth it.

“Gracias,” Your son called, taking the styrofoam bowl from the vendor and you paid, looking down for your son’s hand once more.

But he was gone.

“Diego?” You whipped around, eyes frantically scanning the block around you. You were looking for anything that he was wearing; the bright orange shirt, the denim shorts, the black sandals. You looked for his tan skin against the flocks of pale skin you saw on the sidewalk. You looked for him in between the cars zooming past, but you didn’t see him. “Diego!”

The vendor tapped you on the shoulder and pointed to a man in a suit, hands in the air, looking down on something and in front of him, mostly blocked by his body, you could see the orange of Diego’s shirt.

Your legs moved quickly, dodging around the expensive suit standing in front of him. When you got within arms reach, you wrapped him up and breathed his name, heart finally slowing down. “Diego, baby, you can’t scare Mamí like that.” He sighed, tears in his eyes as his small arms wrapped around your neck.

“Lo siento, señor,” His voice warbled and then you finally took in the scene in front of you. A man, in a very expensive suit, was standing with your son’s strawberry ice cream on his, also very expensive, shoes. And then you looked at his face and your heart stopped again. Rafael stood in front of you and he looked shocked, to say the least.

“Rafael, I am so sorry.” You stood, Diego clinging to you and wrapping his legs around your ribcage, burying his face in your neck, “I’ll pay for someone to clean your shoes,” You said, even though you weren’t sure if you could afford it.

Rafael, still in shock at seeing you after… After nearly five years of not speaking, “No, it’s alright.” His eyes dropped to Diego, obviously trying to guess the boy’s age. “Who’s this?”

“Diego,” You cleared your throat, “Can you say hello to Mister Barba?” The boy in your arms shook his head, so you pressed a kiss to his crown and mumbled his name with a tone of warning. “Please say hello to one of Mamí’s friends.”

He popped his head up and held out one of his hands, shaking Rafael’s when it was extended. “Hello, Mister Barba.”

“Hello Diego,” Rafael smiled kindly at the boy and then he looked at you. And you knew that look well because, in all ten years of your friendship, he had given you that look when he didn’t believe you or he was trying to figure something out.

Maybe he was trying to figure out why, two months after you both got drunk at one of his galas and had sex, you stopped talking to him and then moved to Queens without telling him. “Rafael, I think Diego needs a nap,” A lie as your son, at nearly five years old, did not nap anymore.

“He looks…” Rafael glanced over his shoulder and then back at your son, “Strikingly familiar.” Fear pitted in your stomach and Diego hid in your shoulder again, afraid of getting in trouble. You rocked him, shushing him under your breath, “Can I invite you back to my office for lunch?” And you wanted to say no, but Rafael kept speaking, “Maybe I could buy el hombrecito another helado?”

Diego grinned into your shoulder, and nodded, “Mamí, can we?” Rafael, even thought there was a bustle around the three of you, heard your son and grinned at you.

“Yes, hijo, I guess we can.” Rafael looked just as you remembered him, leading you to the side of the road and hailing a cab. “It’s going to be a long ride, if I remember correctly.” Rafael shook his head, climbing in after the cab stopped in front of you. You let Diego slide in, sitting rather far away from who he thought was one of your friends.

Once you were inside and the cab lurched forward, Diego scrambled back into your lap, hands curling in your shirt.

“It’s not too long of a ride,” Rafael said, “I moved to Manhattan ADA. I mostly work with the Special Victims Unit, now. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken.” He was laying it on thick, like a true lawyer, trying to guilt you into the confession that you both knew was coming. “What have you been doing?”  
  


“I’ve been raising Diego, obviously, but I’ve been working at a pharmaceuticals company as a secretary. Demeaning work.” Rafael nodded and sucked his teeth, turning his head to look out the window. You knew that he was reliving how stubborn you were, from when you spoke. Or maybe he was piecing it together- Rafael was always a smart man and it wasn’t hard to see the way Diego’s lips pursed in the same was as His, the way his eyes shone when he was having a good time with his matching quick wit.

“We’re here,” Rafael paid, even though you said that you would, and then he led you into his work, greeting his secretary and shutting his office door behind you. He grinned at Diego when he pulled his cell phone out and ordered some ice cream- you weren’t even aware that you could do that- and Diego jumped from your arms and ended up on Rafael’s couch, swinging his legs.

You pulled a coloring book and some crayons from your bag, handing them to your son, because the look on Rafael’s face alerted you and told you that he wanted to talk.

And you didn’t want your son hearing what you were going to talk about. Rafael sat down in a chair next to his desk and gestured for you to sit, too. “I think you and I need to talk.” You swallowed dryly and fell into the seat across from him, still keeping an eye on Diego as he colored and waited for his ice cream to arrive.

“Yeah, we do.” You said, “But it’s not what you think.” One of the dumbest things you could have said to the most competent lawyer you had ever met, and he didn’t buy it.

Rafael gave you the look again, “I didn’t say what I thought, do obviously you already have some preconceived notion in your head.” And dammit, he was right. “I just need to know if Diego is my son.”

The air in the room turned stale and you found it hard to breath because you hadn’t wanted Rafael to find out, not like he was, not with melted sweets on his shoes and your son coloring across the room. “Diego is my son,” You said slowly, “But, yes, you are his father.” Diego coughed and you looked around Rafael to see if he had heard, but he hadn’t.

His father, the man sitting in front of you, put his elbows on his knees and set his chin on his hands, sighing. He looked at you and you had forgotten how much you had missed his eyes. How close they were to Diego’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Call me? You moved and took him away from me.” Rafael stood, startling you and your son.

“Mamí?” He called, voice wavering. You stood and stepped away from Rafael, smiling sweetly at Diego.

‘It’s fine, hijo, go back to coloring, okay?” He nodded and warily eyes Rafael, who had realization on his face.

“I’m sorry,” He reached for your shoulder and you let him, warmth spreading from his touch, “But why did you leave, why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“You’re successful, Raf,” The nickname rolled off of your tongue with ease, “I didn’t want you to have to juggle a child and custody and visits when your career was kicking off.” He shook his head and took another step toward you.

“I loved you,” He confessed, “I love you.” And then he looked over his shoulder at Diego, “And I would have been thrilled to have a son, especially a son as well behaved as Diego. Let me be in his life, and yours. Please.” His eyes met yours and you sighed, nodding, basically falling into his arms for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Raf. I’m so sorry.” But his arms wound around you and you could feel him shaking his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”


End file.
